Reach-Out Fails and Social Media

I’m just about sick of trying to reach out. For years and years, it was impossible for me. I lived inside a little box of glass and bone and internalized everything. I think being in a relationship with Match taught me how to open up a bit, although I still don’t confide in anyone to anywhere near the degree that I do to him. But lately, especially last week when I felt like depression and bleakness were going to just swallow me whole, I have actually been trying to reach out a bit. Dropping quick emails to friends back in the States, trying to touch base and not sit alone with all that I’m struggling with. I don’t necessarily tell them about the ED stuff, just that shit is hard.

And you know what? People are TERRIBLE at providing support. They hate talking about hard things. Humans are fucking superficial, even if they are otherwise great people. With the exception of Match and a couple of internet ED blog friends (possibly the only people who even still read this blog? You know who you are)—those exceptions have been lifesavers. But most people from “real life” that I have reached out to follow a predictable pattern:

I drop a quick note, asking how they are. They answer, asking how I am. I respond to their update on themselves, then I indicate things are a bit rough for me. They probe a bit. I tell them more. Then I get either no or very minimal responses, and feel awkward thinking about ever interacting with them again. People are terrible at handling hard stuff.

Again, this isn’t even at the level of “by the way I am relapsing with this eating disorder that has plagued me for the last 15 years and I am finally at a point where I think it could fuck up my professional goals because it is eating my brain and my life.” This is more like “I’m lonely and grieving and both family and research stuff are hard right now”. And people can’t even handle that. I’m fucking sick of putting myself out there and ending up even lonelier than before.

It reminds me of people's responses immediately after my Nana died. People want to act like they're being caring by asking how you are, but 99% of the time they really just want you to say you're fine and thank them for their thoughtfulness, and for that to be that.

Again, none of that applies to people likely to see this on the blog, so please don’t read this as a passive aggressive complaint. Y’all have been amazing in providing support, and even proactively reaching out to me unsolicited. I’m still sometimes hesitant to talk about the real nitty gritty of things, but the connections mean more to me than I can say.

So that’s that. Just needed to vent, I guess. The only people I’ve mentioned the ED relapse to are Match, people that read this blog, and my Mom. Match is a saint about it. I never thought I could be so open about ED stuff with someone who has never had one, but his level of insight in a lot of ways continues to surprise me. And I think seeing me go up and down with it has made it sort of a soapbox issue for him personally. I know at some level he is afraid this is what he'll lose me to. This is part of what he said in an exchange we had this morning, after I sort of grilled him about what he thought about certain actresses’ sizes so I could gauge what he thinks against my own untrustworthy perceptions:

Match: "I get angry at society for the set up. I get angry at men for allowing it to be such a huge part of romantic and sexual selection. I get angry at the level of buy-in so many people have at this system. It just seems like nothing justifies this archaic and barbaric set up. And I often feel completely powerless to do anything about it … let's say hypothetically a guy did want a size 0 girlfriend. Does that mean that for weeks, months and years she had to cater to that ideal? She can't eat a muffin or be lazy on the couch on Wednesday because he might want to look at her body on Saturday? It's way too big an ask."

In addition to Match, you ladies that might be reading this are life-savers, especially two of you. My mom basically offered to pay for Skype therapy sessions and now just avoids talking about the subject at all costs. She'd rather throw money at it than think about it. I wish I could do the same. I don’t give her all the details, of course, just tell her that I’m struggling again.

Another issue, to which I don’t feel like devoting a separate post: pictures on social media. I haven’t posted any pictures of myself since my first week here in January, when I was at the highest weight I’ve been at in a year or more. A couple of days ago I went to a SUPER mood-boosting session with a local womens’ group, and the ladies there were touching in so many ways. I can’t imagine growing up as a girl/woman in their communities. If you’re interested in the issues their group is working on, send me a message; discussing it here would give away my geographic location and make me pretty identifiable.

ANYHOW, my group picture with them is the first one I’ve posted of myself since January. And as soon as I hit the “Post” button on Facebook I got worried that anyone who sees it will never take me seriously about struggling with food lately. I knew there might be photos that day and wore a loose-fitting shirt on purpose so as not to be body-conscious, but then, like always, I ended up just appalled at how shapeless and “poofy” I looked in the photo.

So why whine about the photo, why just not post the fucking thing, Cammy? Because being involved with those women is the most meaningful thing I do out here, and I really didn’t want to let ED voices in my head keep me from sharing that. I’m aware that I’m having experiences that very few people are lucky enough to have, and want to be able to embrace and share that. I hate myself for the fact that I had an awesome day with inspiring women, women that have overcome unbelievable challenges, and the first thing I think of when I look at the photos is whether the shadows make my thighs look big. I disgust myself on so many levels.

Of course, I know that anyone who knows ED stuff knows better than to gauge disordered status on someone’s weight at a given time. And I’m probably a terrible evaluator of my own body right now. But I still worried that if I do decide to reach out to anyone, they’ll look at that and think “what is this crazy lady talking about? She looks fine, must be attention-seeking.” Does anyone else do that?

I know long posts tend to be read less, so I should wrap this up. I hope everyone is having a great weekend. And again, none of the venting about reaching out is aimed at the people that I know read this blog.

PS:

Final vent: the fact that I will be 29 this year and still have to register for classes online in order to keep my health insurance is starting to feel a bit ridiculous. #phdlife